[ There was something familiar about crashing at someone’s place like this, although she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. His company was comforting, but so was the nostalgia of it all. Minus working for him.
She cuts a piece of the toast with her fork and takes a bite, swallowing before making her offer. ]
Do you need any help around the house? Anything to clean? Laundry…?
[ That was another difference. Worrick and Nicolas weren’t that clean. But that leaves her with nothing to give back.
Her brow knits, uncomfortable with the idea of not doing something for him, even if he says he doesn’t expect it. All the more reason for her to want to show her appreciation. Her eyes close, letting out something close to a whine and grumble while she nibbles at her fork deep in thought. ]
Can’t I also just want to do something nice for you?
[ Alex raises an eyebrow, pretty sure that she had just said that she simply wanted to do something for him out of a pure desire to. ]
I’m not saying I’m doing it because I’m obligated to. I just want to.
[ This seemed to pop up every now and then, Linden’s discomfort with seemingly good intentions towards him. At least, that’s what Alex thinks she’s noticed. ]
I’m not forcing myself to do things for you. Do…you not like that?
[She's not wrong, to recognize a pattern. Myr's noticed the same. Everyone who's ever known L for long recognizes how simple connections between human beings break down spectacularly, given his tendencies to overthink, the way others have treated him and perhaps the way he's treated others in the life that came before.]
Sorry. I don't know... I suppose I'm nervous about a debt tying me to someone and making me smaller, until I can pay it off. However that sounds... it's what it feels like, I think.
[ Alex let’s his explanation sit with silence, taking the time to digest his words. She feels like she can relate to that, although she doesn’t feel comfortable comparing herself to him. Linden sometimes felt so above it all, and other times very human to her.
Another moment passes and she pulls out a handkerchief from her pocket, placing it carefully on the table. ]
The first time anyone was kind to me was when they lent this to me.
[ It wasn’t extravagant, if anything a weird story. Maybe even a pleasant one considering the circumstances. She’d been hit, bleeding, and this was casually handed to her. ]
Him and his partner had given me more kindness in a few months than I’d ever gotten in years… and it burdened me like nothing else.
[ To the point that she still carries this around with her like a shackle. ]
I hated it so much that in the end I wished they’d never helped me at all.
[ This was terribly selfish, she knows, but he’d let her do so for some time now and she hopes he’ll indulge her more. ]
No matter what you say, I’ll always feel like I can never return what you’ve done for me. Because it means that much to me. Maybe I am doing this to try and pay you back…but I just want to feel like I actually can do something for you.
I never got to properly thank them in the end…and I don’t want to regret not doing that anymore.
[He muses, staring at the delicate bit of cloth on the table. He understands how even a feather can seem so heavy, when it's offered to one who has nothing.]
Your friendship is enough. It was always enough.
[Even before he shuddered and came inside of her, but it's better, perhaps, not to talk about that.]
When I think of my own years without kindness, your friendship makes my days better.
[ Were they back to talking about boundaries? She thought that had been settled already. Unless… ]
Is me wanting to do more crossing the line?
[ Alex didn’t really have friends until she came to Aef, and many of them have left since. Navigating these types of relationships was still new to her, and she knew she could be clumsy. ]
[It's never settled. It's like a bad filling, always distracting, always getting things caught in the amalgam, always sharp and tender against the tongue's prodding tip.]
[ Alex has to mentally cover her ears, her brows pinching slightly as she closes her eyes, already knowing what her hallucination would have to say about that. It only lasts a second before she’s looking back at Linden again. ]
Isn’t it a matter of what you’re okay with?
[ There’s little Alex isn’t willing to do for the people she cares for, but she can’t decide for them what they want or don’t want. ]
That was never a good litmus test. I'm okay with too much, honestly... I'd let anything happen, if I thought it was for the right reasons. I'd do anything for the right outcome, do you understand? So... your outcome, your ideal one? I guess I'm asking what it is.
Yes, she did, and she’s overcome once again with the consciousness of what’s happened between them. And that makes her answer to his question seem childish and embarrassing.
Her legs fold up on the chair, hugging them close to her chest. ]
My ideal outcome…was whatever made you happy.
[ A simple answer really. If she could make him smile or do something beneficial for him, that was enough. ]
[He cants his head. Childish, yes. Embarrassing, perhaps not as much as she might believe. He's childish in his ways, too, in just as many ways as he's distant and sullen.]
What makes one person happy isn't necessarily true for others. I've only ever copied what makes others happy, and generally found it doesn't work for me. So... I remember what made me happy a long time ago, and try to let it make me happy again. Like...
[ He has to reach that far back? Alex wonders if there are things in the present that make him happy then… ]
Ah…not that I remember.
[ Her mother might have made one for her a long time ago. Emilio may have drawn her one or made a mud cake of some sorts. But her memories are muddled, and she hasn’t celebrated her birthday in years. ]
I actually…don’t remember when mine is.
[ She admits a bit bashfully. That was probably an odd thing not to remember. But she perks up, her ears up in attention while she leans forward excitedly. ]
[That seems very sad to him, and he's silent for a few beats.]
Mine's October 31st. Halloween. When I turned five, we had nothing, but my mother went out of her way to bake a cake for me. We didn't have any candles, so she pulled them off the menorah for it.
[He understands the impropriety, now. He didn't then.]
I wished she wouldn't leave me, but I had a cough from the mold in our house. I couldn't blow out five, so. Wasted wish, but it made me happy, while they were lit. Like nothing else since.
[ October 31st…that was coming up. She listens to his story, imagining what a tiny, 5 year old Linden must’ve been like. While her memories might be vague, she can touch on the feelings of being content with little to nothing, so long as you were with people you loved.
It was his happy memory, but it made her smile warmly. ]
[He nods, but there's a catch in the motion, as though he's reconsidering the logistics of it even in a moment of gladness. Slowly, he starts to ask a question.]
Will you still make it, even if--
[He reconsiders. Cuts himself off. Smiles.]
It sounds really great. I know that it'll be amazing.
[His answering laughter is bright, like silver overpolished to the point of scratching.]
Strawberry shortcake, if there are options. Always strawberry shortcake.
[His mother's cake, he thinks, had been vaguely vanilla-flavored. He doesn't fully remember it. Time has done strange things to this memory, as it does to most of them. He remembers the candles, the rare smile, the way his lungs filled too quickly and tightly. He can't remember if it tasted good, if he managed to blow out two or three of the five before he choked on his breath, if he actually had the words in his native language to conceptualize that it was the death of a wish.
Sugar coated his fingers, his aching throat. He remembers that it was a distraction, for awhile, a treat to focus on as a slender shadow drifted away and furniture scraped in the distance.
His hand is over his mouth, and he's not sure when that happened.
Remove, reset.]
Whipped cream, too. I think... it's always been my favorite.
[ The laugh takes her by surprise, finned ears fanned out as even her poor hearing picks up how clear his voice is. She’s not sure she said anything particularly funny, but she likes it. ]
Strawberry shortcake with whipped cream it is.
[ While they shared no bond, there was a pull that Alex felt, something about Linden that made her want to comfort him. But she’s torn between that instinct and the agreement they’d just made. There might not be any impure intentions behind it, but Alex decides she shouldn’t. It helped that there was a table between them. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She cuts a piece of the toast with her fork and takes a bite, swallowing before making her offer. ]
Do you need any help around the house? Anything to clean? Laundry…?
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[Or the help they hire.]
You don't have to do favors for me. I wouldn't offer what I wasn't willing to give away gladly.
[Maybe it's also a form of penance for him, guilt for Mello and what he can do to those he claims to care for.]
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Her brow knits, uncomfortable with the idea of not doing something for him, even if he says he doesn’t expect it. All the more reason for her to want to show her appreciation. Her eyes close, letting out something close to a whine and grumble while she nibbles at her fork deep in thought. ]
Can’t I also just want to do something nice for you?
[ Even if she was out of ideas. ]
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[He speaks quickly and quietly. Cerise, expressions limited as they are, still seems a bit on-edge.]
It's really not transactional. I'm not doing it because of any expectation of future kindness.
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I’m not saying I’m doing it because I’m obligated to. I just want to.
[ This seemed to pop up every now and then, Linden’s discomfort with seemingly good intentions towards him. At least, that’s what Alex thinks she’s noticed. ]
I’m not forcing myself to do things for you. Do…you not like that?
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Sorry. I don't know... I suppose I'm nervous about a debt tying me to someone and making me smaller, until I can pay it off. However that sounds... it's what it feels like, I think.
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Another moment passes and she pulls out a handkerchief from her pocket, placing it carefully on the table. ]
The first time anyone was kind to me was when they lent this to me.
[ It wasn’t extravagant, if anything a weird story. Maybe even a pleasant one considering the circumstances. She’d been hit, bleeding, and this was casually handed to her. ]
Him and his partner had given me more kindness in a few months than I’d ever gotten in years… and it burdened me like nothing else.
[ To the point that she still carries this around with her like a shackle. ]
I hated it so much that in the end I wished they’d never helped me at all.
[ This was terribly selfish, she knows, but he’d let her do so for some time now and she hopes he’ll indulge her more. ]
No matter what you say, I’ll always feel like I can never return what you’ve done for me. Because it means that much to me. Maybe I am doing this to try and pay you back…but I just want to feel like I actually can do something for you.
I never got to properly thank them in the end…and I don’t want to regret not doing that anymore.
It’s not your debt. It’s my thanks.
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[He muses, staring at the delicate bit of cloth on the table. He understands how even a feather can seem so heavy, when it's offered to one who has nothing.]
Your friendship is enough. It was always enough.
[Even before he shuddered and came inside of her, but it's better, perhaps, not to talk about that.]
When I think of my own years without kindness, your friendship makes my days better.
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She grins, resting her chin in her hand. ]
I’ll believe you. But maybe I just want to give you more.
[ She’s at least able to now. ]
So I hope you’ll accept it. And if that ties you to me…I can’t say I feel terribly bad about that.
[ So long as he doesn’t feel small about it, she’ll take what she can get to not lose the people she cares about again. ]
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Don't you? We're not Bonded.
[Like she is to someone else, who objects strongly to this particular tie.]
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Am I only supposed to be friends with my Bonded…?
[ Her question comes out before she realizes what he might be referring to. She leans back against the chair, an almost defensive stance. ]
Is that what you think?
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[But what he believes doesn't matter, perhaps, as much as what some others might.]
Where "friend" begins and ends might also matter.
[The fact that it's difficult, is proof that they don't always master that boundary.]
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Is me wanting to do more crossing the line?
[ Alex didn’t really have friends until she came to Aef, and many of them have left since. Navigating these types of relationships was still new to her, and she knew she could be clumsy. ]
So where does it begin and end?
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It depends on what more you want to do.
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Isn’t it a matter of what you’re okay with?
[ There’s little Alex isn’t willing to do for the people she cares for, but she can’t decide for them what they want or don’t want. ]
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[His answer is startlingly quick.]
That was never a good litmus test. I'm okay with too much, honestly... I'd let anything happen, if I thought it was for the right reasons. I'd do anything for the right outcome, do you understand? So... your outcome, your ideal one? I guess I'm asking what it is.
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Yes, she did, and she’s overcome once again with the consciousness of what’s happened between them. And that makes her answer to his question seem childish and embarrassing.
Her legs fold up on the chair, hugging them close to her chest. ]
My ideal outcome…was whatever made you happy.
[ A simple answer really. If she could make him smile or do something beneficial for him, that was enough. ]
Are you going to say that’s not necessary?
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What makes one person happy isn't necessarily true for others. I've only ever copied what makes others happy, and generally found it doesn't work for me. So... I remember what made me happy a long time ago, and try to let it make me happy again. Like...
[It's so hard to remember.]
A birthday cake. Did you ever have one of those?
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Ah…not that I remember.
[ Her mother might have made one for her a long time ago. Emilio may have drawn her one or made a mud cake of some sorts. But her memories are muddled, and she hasn’t celebrated her birthday in years. ]
I actually…don’t remember when mine is.
[ She admits a bit bashfully. That was probably an odd thing not to remember. But she perks up, her ears up in attention while she leans forward excitedly. ]
But when’s yours? It hasn’t passed yet, has it?
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[That seems very sad to him, and he's silent for a few beats.]
Mine's October 31st. Halloween. When I turned five, we had nothing, but my mother went out of her way to bake a cake for me. We didn't have any candles, so she pulled them off the menorah for it.
[He understands the impropriety, now. He didn't then.]
I wished she wouldn't leave me, but I had a cough from the mold in our house. I couldn't blow out five, so. Wasted wish, but it made me happy, while they were lit. Like nothing else since.
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It was his happy memory, but it made her smile warmly. ]
Can I make a cake for your birthday, then?
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Will you still make it, even if--
[He reconsiders. Cuts himself off. Smiles.]
It sounds really great. I know that it'll be amazing.
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Doesn’t matter what kind you want. I’ll do my best, so you can request whatever you’d like to have.
[ She laughs as she tries to give him a reassuring smile. ]
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Strawberry shortcake, if there are options. Always strawberry shortcake.
[His mother's cake, he thinks, had been vaguely vanilla-flavored. He doesn't fully remember it. Time has done strange things to this memory, as it does to most of them. He remembers the candles, the rare smile, the way his lungs filled too quickly and tightly. He can't remember if it tasted good, if he managed to blow out two or three of the five before he choked on his breath, if he actually had the words in his native language to conceptualize that it was the death of a wish.
Sugar coated his fingers, his aching throat. He remembers that it was a distraction, for awhile, a treat to focus on as a slender shadow drifted away and furniture scraped in the distance.
His hand is over his mouth, and he's not sure when that happened.
Remove, reset.]
Whipped cream, too. I think... it's always been my favorite.
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Strawberry shortcake with whipped cream it is.
[ While they shared no bond, there was a pull that Alex felt, something about Linden that made her want to comfort him. But she’s torn between that instinct and the agreement they’d just made. There might not be any impure intentions behind it, but Alex decides she shouldn’t. It helped that there was a table between them. ]
Things like that.
[ She continues. ]
I’d like to so things like that for you.
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